Storymania - The Stone In The Sword by Matthew James Parsons

The Stone In The Sword (2)
Matthew James Parsons

“You speak the Human Dialects?” Larmandi asked the dwarf, an astonished look upon his face.
“Yes, of course Renda know Uman Dilects.” The dwarf said. “Me not stooped like other dwarves. Me important Cheeftan!”
“Well then, Renda,” Larmandi said to the dwarf. “Why did you take me and my friend prisoner?”
“Stoopid uman! Uman should know better than to trespass on dwarf lands!”
“We did not know that these were your lands.”
“Because you is stooped uman.”
“No, because this forest is not mapped with political and tribal boundaries.”
“Ronda not care about poltic bird talk! Poltic only good for eat, not for maps.”
Larmandi saw that he was not getting anywhere with this dwarf. Renda may be a prodigy among dwarves, but he was still dumber than any human. Larmandi sighed again. He would never get out of here at this rate. He guessed that there was nothing else to do but to try to negotiate.
“What do you want from me and my friends?” Larmandi asked Renda, trying to sound like he was confident, even though he was far from it.
“Renda already talk to metal uman, leather uman, and not interesting uman, and they tell me you do magic with metal.”
“Magic, like the street performers, or magyck, like the stones?”
“Renda no care about streets! Renda want magic stones in dwarf weapons.”
“Say magyck, correctly. Not magic, magyck.”
“Magic.”
“No, not magic. More of an ‘Aye’ sound, not an ‘ick’ sound.”
“Magyck.”
“Very good.”
“Now Renda want magyck weapons for dwarf tribe!”
“What will you give me in return?”
“Renda already learn how to say stoopid word, now make weapons!”
“No, not that! Something else for my service.”
“What? How about Renda give you freedom for work.”
Larmandi sat there and thought for a second.
“I want my friends to be free.”
“What, other stoopid umans?”
“Yes, the other stupid humans.”
“Done deal!” Renda said happily. “Stoopid umans leave place and stop whining about food and magyck human stay here with dwarves and make weapons. Very nice for Renda!”
Renda left the room, clicking and shrieking at some dwarf to do something. He heard some stones slide open, Grumdon’s armor clanking against the stone ground, Reumidi’s indignant screams at the dwarves, and Waymane’s moaning. Larmandi just sat there in the cage for another good hour until Renda and a cartful of weapons came back into the room.
“When uman finish these weapons?”
“I can do it in one month. Now if you could just take me to your forge…”

“We left him behind with those savages,” Reumidi groaned. “The left him with those barbarians! Father, we should have tried to rescue him!”
Grumdon took out his sword and slashed his way through the undergrowth in the forest. “It had to be done. We could not of fought all those dwarves. We had to go on. It is what he would have wanted us to do.”
“’Ow do you know what ‘e wanted?” Waymane said, his old, whispery voice not matching the young body he was taking residence in. “That is one of the things that made the Paladin Souls what he is today.”
“Oh, quiet you old coot!”
“Now that was completely uncalled for, Grumdon.”
“Yes, father, that was not needed.”
“You will not tell me what is and is not needed, Reumidi.”
“Don’t pick on her, Metal Head!”
“Body Thief!”
“’Ead Splitter!”
“Ancient!”
“Magyck Eater!”
“Bloody Idiot!”
Waymane looked shocked at Grumdon. “At least I keep my language clean.”
“Oh, save it for the stars above, Waymane. Just shut up!”
Waymane and Grumdon were in such a heated argument that they didn’t notice that the forest was changing around them. The trees were turning from grey to blue, glowing faintly. The trees bore yellow fruits on them, called Moonlimes. Reumidi looked up from her sulking and noticed the change in the scenery. She tried to get the attention of Grumdon and Waymane, but they were arguing too loud so they could hear her. She sighed and went back into her sulk.
Waymane and Grumdon were really mad at each other now. Grumdon stopped chopping at the underbrush to take a swipe at Waymane. Waymane took out a knife and took a stab at Grumdon. They both missed, but they turned on each other again in an instant, slashing and stabbing at each other. Grumdon finally got Waymane, leaving a large scar down his chest.
“Nice job, you moron!” Waymane bellowed at Grumdon. “You’ve gone and sliced me open like a letter!”
“Well, I didn’t mean to.”
“Didn’t mean to? This cut goes from my shoulder to my waist!”
“Sorry!”
“Don’t be sorry, just seal the wound before I bleed to death!”
“With what?”
“Doesn’t your sword have a sapphire in it? Just focus on it and press the face of the blade to this gash!”
Grumdon laid the sword face down on Waymane’s scar, closed his eyes, and focused. When he opened his eyes, the wound had closed, but the scar still remained. Waymane got up, thanked Grumdon, and walked for about ten feet when he got caught in another trap.
“Oh, stars above, what have I done to deserve this?” Waymane moaned as he sat suspended above the ground in a silver-gold net. Grumdon tried to cut the net with his blade, but the ropes wouldn’t break. Waymane took a closer look at the ropes, stroked the rope taking note of its texture and temperature, and then he put his ear to the ropes. Waymane looked up and declared “”Ey fellas, look at this. The rope is made of adamntite.”

Grumdon instantly released his focus from trying to break the net to standing on guard. Reumidi listened for any disturbance in the woods. There was the tang of an arrow, and Grumdon found that an arrow had buried itself in his shoulder. The last words he managed to get out before he fell asleep were “Not again.”

Reumidi awoke in a skyrite cage suspended several feet above the ground, Waymane and Grumdon snoring in two separate cages hung about five feet apart. She heard the sounds of bells ringing, and saw the most amazing sight. They were in the sprite village they were searching for! The small spritehomes made from toadstools wrapped their way up the trees, and the sprites flitted around in the air, giving a soft blue glow. One sprite looked over at the cages, saw that Reumidi was awake and began beckoning to the other sprites.
A group of sprites had gathered around the cage hushing each other as they stared at the human. The young sprite braves flew between the bars of the cage and hovered above her for a few seconds before flying back out, challenging each other to stay longer than the last. All the sprites were chatting in their language of coos and hums, looking at the stranger that was trapped in the cage.
“Hello, miss.” One sprite said in the Human Dialects. “Are your accommodations enjoyable?”
“Enjoyable?” Reumidi said in disbelief. “I am locked in a cage, haven’t eaten in who knows how long, and I have no clue how long I’ve been in this cage! How is that enjoyable?”
“Sorry, miss. We can get you some food if you wish, and you have been asleep for at least two sunrises.”
“Sunrises?”
“You call them days, I believe.”
“Ah, yes. Just can you get me some food?”
“Yes, miss.”
The sprite flew off to one of the trees bearing moonliimes and came back to Reumidi with an armful by sprite standards, about a handful for humans.
“What are these?”
“Moonlimes.”
Reumidi took a bite. The fruit was sweet and filling, tasting like raspberries and lemons.
“Delicious.”
“May I ask a question miss?”
“Shoot.”
“What?”
“Go ahead.”
“What is your name?”
“Reumidi.”
“My name is Comettail, Miss Reumidi.”
Commettail translated for the other sprites that were eager to ask questions, Reumidi answering all of them. Reumidi had one question of her own, though.
“Where can I get some skyrite, or adamantite, or whatever you call it?”
All the sprites instantly quieted down. They all had nervous looks on their faces as a group of sprites emerged from one large toadstool. They wore impressive skyrite armor, almost like a miniature version of Grumdon. They bore spears the size of popsicle sticks that were sharpened to a vicious point. They looked at Reumidi, to Comettail, back to Reumidi, and spoke to Comettail. Comettail translated their message to Reumidi.
“The Council wants to know why you are looking for skyrite.”
“We are making a sword and armor.”
“For what?”
“To kill the Paladin Souls.”
Comettail told this to the Council, who laughed and said something else.
“The Council says they do not care for human problems.”
“The Paladin Souls is not just a human problem! Once he kills all of human kind, he will kill gnomes, dwarves, elves, goblins, and even you, the sprites!”
“The Council says that they do not care.”
“But they must! Even the lives of their people and kin are in danger!”
“The Council says that the Paladin will never grow that strong.”
“He is immortal! He is not held by such bonds as we are!”
“The Council grows annoyed, Miss Reumidi.”
“Tell them we only need a little skyrite, just enough to make the sword and armor!”
Comettail said that to the Council. The Council let out some command in their language and all the sprites began to fly away.
“Comettail!” Reumidi cried. “What did they say?”
Comettail replied solemnly “The Council declared that any sprite found near the cages will be killed. The heads of the dead sprites will adorn your cage, Miss Reumidi.” Comettail flitted off slowly, crying in the sprite’s language. Grumdon woke up, stretched, and saw that Reumidi was awake.
“So, daughter, what did I miss?”

Larmandi pounded the ruby into the battleaxe, repeating the enchantment that he had been using the most during his four-month stay with the dwarves. Renda looked on approvingly.
“Human is doing good work for Renda and dwarf tribe.”
Larmandi smiled. Bolstering the dwarf’s armory with enchanted weapons hadn’t been the only thing he had accomplished. He had managed to teach Renda better human grammar and pronunciation along with teaching other dwarves the Human Dialects. Dwarves could be as smart as humans if they managed to pay attention during lessons. It also helped that the dwarves were naturally curious about their blacksmith.
“Aye, I am doing good work. Now, what does a ruby do?”
“Ruby makes flames grow from blade.”
“And lapis-lazuli?”
“Makes ice.”
“Good Renda!’
Renda smiled proudly at his academic success. Larmandi put the battleaxe into the cart and the dwarf pulled the cart away. Renda returned without a cart full of weapons for improvement.
“What’s this? Is it time for a meal?”
“No, Renda is glad to say that Human is done making weapons magyck.”

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